Valentine's Day

My collection of heart-shaped cookie cutters is spread throughout my kitchen. From very tiny one-bite size to large ruffled nibble-with-a-cup-of-coffee sized cutter, they’re at the ready to cut whatever suits my fancy into a shape that says "Love You."

Brownies, chewy peanut butter oatmeal bars, lemon bars, pancakes — all can be stamped with a cookie cutter.

My phone visit with Sarah Piepenburg last week was the inspiration for the Nutella and Jelly "Love You" Sandwich. Sarah and her husband, Richard, own Vinaigrette, a Minneapolis store specializing in imported olive oil and vinegar. She told me she has drizzled the 18 year aged balsamic they carry in the store over grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. If it’s a good dessert made with peanut butter, why not Nutella?

It’s amazing how decadent a simple grilled sandwich becomes when it’s made with an ample slather of Nutella and your favorite premium jam or preserves. A dusting of powdered sugar and a drizzle of aged balsamic, as thick as syrup with a bright, fruity flavor, puts this delightful bread and spread concoction way over the top.

Yesterday I asked my son Sam the question I have asked him every February since he started kindergarten. “Is there somebody you want to get a special Valentine for? We could make one, if you want, or we can pick one out when we buy the regular ones….” This year, he embellished on the six-year tradition of polite refusal by rolling his eyes and saying “no” in a tone that translated clearly into “derrrrrr.”

I am not anxious for my twelve-year-old to be in love, or even smitten. In a twisted knot of irony of the type found only in motherhood, I am simultaneously delighted that he is not interested in girls, and worried that he should be. All around him crushes are blooming, complete with third-party intercession, texting after bedtime, and group movie “dates.” Sam finds the sixth grade romance scene ridiculous, in a benign and pragmatic sort of way. His best friend is a girl, and he listens kindly and without comment to her lengthy, high-volume and rapid-fire proclamations of love for various boys. He is waiting for her to stop talking so that they can do something interesting, like making a video or playing Xbox.

On this February afternoon two friends are catching up over blended pink drinks. We're in Boston where winter lasts well into April. There is no snow today and the sun is shining but it's cold. We're talking about healthy things that taste good and are easy to make.

We've been working kitchens together longer than we can remember. It started in 4th floor walk-ups across the hall from each other where dinner for seven meant peas, corn and salad with home-made chili, spaghetti with broccoli and garlic bread. We moved on to sharing secrets for perfect matzo balls (don't potchke), cheese plates at the Wine School, salad dressing, brining turkeys and what to serve at the Christmas block party.

Like our hair, our tastes have changed. We nix meat and dairy and drink more red wine. Our mid-day favors drinks whipped in a blender. When I found it last spring, the blender hadn't been used since the last time I crushed ice. That's when I learned that vegetables can be imbibed.

I broke up with my boyfriend the night before I took off for Ohio to canvass for Obama.  Well really, I broke up with him three nights later, but I knew in my head that I would do it the night before I left.  What I did that night before was tell him I could not talk to him for three days.  Three days of: landing in Ohio the morning after the red-eye; having breakfast with Carol Ogline (my 84 year old host) at the fanciest restaurant in Alliance; Ohio (where the side salad is $3.00 extra); driving to the Alliance, Ohio campaign office (the first national campaign office to ever exist there); taking off from the office to canvass down the street; getting chased down that same street by a rabid dog, finding out the owner was an Obama supporter and recruiting him to volunteer; returning to the office to make phone calls; going back to Carol Ogline's house and eating peanut butter sandwiches with her at 1am while her 1 month old puppy rolled around on the floor; getting back to the campaign office the next day to canvass some more; promising a man I would show up at 6am the day after election day and chop the wood piled in his yard if he voted; taking a picture at the end of that street; returning to the office to make phone calls; going to Applebee's with my volunteer coordinator; returning to the office the next day to canvass, swaying a voter, swaying another voter, going to another county to meet the 20 new volunteers that had just arrived; jumping on a conference call to hear Obama give us all an amazing half time speech; and going into the backyard after that phone call to sit by the empty pool and have that final phone conversation with my boyfriend.